


Any Other Name

by azriona



Series: The Words 'Verse [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Move to Saint Petersburg, Omega Verse, Parenthood, Russians who love to sing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10017113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: We're calling her Anya, says Victor proudly, when he introduces his daughter to Georgi, as if the name isn't as important as the child.No one else seems to make the connection. Georgi thinks it's about time he stop remembering, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Radish_of_Doom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radish_of_Doom/gifts).



> In response to Radish_of_Doom pointing out that Georgi would probably have a reaction to Anya's name. Which is not entirely inaccurate.
> 
> The song Victor sings to Aina in the bath is a play on the Russian children's song [Antoshka](http://lyricstranslate.com/en/antoshka-%D0%B0%D0%BD%D1%82%D0%BE%D1%88%D0%BA%D0%B0-antoshka-little-anton.html).

The main room in Victor and Yuuri’s Saint Petersburg apartment is bright with laughter and sunshine. The scattered remains of a late Sunday lunch are still on the large table where everyone is still gathered, picking at the food left on the table. Yuuri strategically clears the empty dishes as he lets his new rinkmates play with the baby.  

The cheerful song Mila sings as she bounces Aina on her knee is entirely in Russian. Yuuri can’t understand a word of it, though he’s pretty sure it has something to do with geese. Aina laughs hysterically and waves her hands like she’s trying to clap. Victor sings along, and Yurio scowls at both of them. Georgi sits nearby, a fond smile on his face, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he rocks back on his chair.

“You can’t even sing it right,” complains Yurio, sixteen to a fault. “That’s not how the words go!”

“You spent your toddler years on an ice rink, what do you know?” laughs Mila, and keeps singing, leaning forward to rub her nose with Aina’s.

Aina gives her a two-tooth grin and giggles, scrunching up her nose in what the nine-month-old has already learned will usually get her whatever she wants.

Yuuri catches glimpses of them from the kitchen, where he’s skipped making tea in favor of coffee, as strong as he can stand it. It’s the only chance he has of keeping up with Aina’s determination to make the most of her lingering jet lag.

He doesn’t notice when Georgi slips out of the room. At one glance, Georgi is there with the rest of them, smiling and nodding along to Mila’s atrocious singing, and the next minute, he’s gone.

“Stop, just _stop_ ,” groans Yurio, rolling his head back on his chair. “You’re going to make her think you know how to sing.”

“I _do_ know how to sing.”

“About as well as you land a triple lutz, sure!”

Mila says something in Russian, so sweetly that Yuuri knows it can’t possibly be complimentary. Especially when Yurio starts waving his arms and howling. Victor looks momentarily startled, as if he’s worried that Aina might start to howl with Yurio – but instead, she just laughs louder.

None of them seem to notice that Georgi’s disappeared, and when Yuuri leaves the kitchen a few minutes later with two cups of coffee, one with more sugar than Yuuri’s ever found palatable, Georgi’s still gone.

“Did Georgi leave?” Yuuri asks Victor.

“Out for a smoke,” says Victor, unconcerned. Mila’s moved onto another song now, and this time, Yurio’s singing back to her. It looks extremely painful for him.

Yuuri leaves them to it, and takes the coffees out onto the enclosed balcony.

It’s a small space, barely big enough for the two chairs and the tiny table. There’s a baby cot on the far end where Victor says Aina can sleep on hot nights, when they can open the windows to catch a breeze. Yuuri’s not sure about this plan, but Victor swears it’s how he slept as a child.

“And I turned out all right,” Victor said.

“Apart from the hair,” said Yuuri, and ducked before the soapy sponge hit him in the nose.

The windows are open now, and Georgi is blowing his cigarette smoke out of them as he leans against one of the window frames.

“I brought your coffee,” says Yuuri, closing the door behind him.

“Thanks,” says Georgi. He flicks the last of the ash from the cigarette into the ashtray before squashing the butt flat. He takes the coffee and breathes it in. “Victor’s got a good view.”

“Yeah,” agrees Yuuri, stepping up to the windows. It’s true, even if Yuuri can’t decide if he likes it or not. Saint Petersburg is beautiful at night; by day, it looks like nearly every other European city Yuuri’s visited, with maybe a few more onion domes scattered here and there. The river snakes through the center of the city, blue-and-silver catching the sun. If Yuuri cranes his neck, he can just make out the blue line of the Baltic Sea – in the other direction, the skating rink where they all practice.

It’s been a week since he and Victor moved to Saint Petersburg. Aina’s new nanny starts on Monday, and then Victor will start training again under Yakov. Yuuri’s not sure who’s more worried about the arrangement. He thinks it might be Yakov, which is such a surprise that Yuuri’s not even sure he can put his feeling into words.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” says Yuuri.

Georgi chuckles as he sips at the coffee. “Everyone needs a vice. The only reason I get through more than a pack a year is because someone keeps stealing them out of my locker.” He winces. “Used to, anyway.”

“Oh,” says Yuuri, curious, and glances through the window into the main room. They’re still singing and laughing, and he’s sure Aina is trying to sing along – or maybe sing over them. It’s hard to tell.

Georgi’s taken the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket by the time Yuuri turns back to him.

“I should quit,” says Georgi, turning the half-crushed pack over in his hands. “Yakov shouts every time he smells it. He smoked like a chimney in his day. Even did a couple of ads in the ‘70s. Anya found them once, we plastered them all over the locker room on his birthday.” Georgi let out a laugh, his head falling back. “You could hear him clear to the docks. He said if he ever found out who, he’d make ‘em smoke a whole crate of cigarettes.”

Yuuri chuckles. “I don’t think I’ve met Anya.”

Georgi’s laugh softens. “She has a different coach. She wanted Yakov, but… he chooses his own, you know. He never much liked Anya. Said she was a bad influence.” Georgi gently tosses the cigarette pack in the air, catching it lightly again. “She didn’t mind, though. About me being a beta.”

It’s an old stereotype, that betas aren’t as good as alphas or omegas, particularly in artistic fields. That they can’t feel the same depth of emotion necessary to convey a story to an audience.

Yuuri knows it’s bunk – he thinks most of the figure skating world agrees, and certainly Yakov does, if he hand-picked Georgi to train. But Yuuri understands the sting of always feeling a bit like second-best.

And the way that Georgi says it – Yuuri thinks Anya’s opinion of Georgi’s presentation probably extended beyond the ice. “She’s an omega?”

“Alpha.” Georgi says, and finally bats the cigarette pack into one of the nearby chairs. “Not someone you’re likely to meet, though – she doesn’t come around during our rink time anymore.”

 _Oh_.

Georgi takes a long drink of the coffee, and the topic shifts – to Yuuri’s programs for the following year, to the ridiculousness of Victor interviewing two dozen nannies before finally settling on the first one he’d found, to the further ridiculousness of Yuuri’s mother sending them with an entire suitcase full of diapers and food, convinced there would be nothing suitable in Saint Petersburg for her precious granddaughter.

“They’ll visit, though?” says Georgi. “Victor keeps talking about your mother’s cooking.”

Yuuri laughs. “They will,” says Yuuri. He already feels a bit homesick, in a way he never did in Detroit. “My mother wants to approve of Yulia herself. I’m not surprised. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive us for taking Aina away from Japan.”

Georgi nods. “I’m surprised you didn’t give her a name easier for you to pronounce.”

“Eh? Oh – I see. Her Russian name is Anya, but I call her by her Japanese name – Aina.”

“Two names,” echoes Georgi.

Yuuri shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, I thought everyone knew.”

“Victor only used Anya when he introduced her.”

“I guess we figured since you’re Russian, that’s the name you’d use for her. Me, my family – everyone in Japan calls her Aina.”

It’ll be months before she hears that name from anyone other than Yuuri, though – and the thought is strangely hurtful. Yuuri tells himself it’s a good thing for Aina to experience Russia, since she’s half Russian herself. Good to be Anya instead of Aina, to become immersed in the language and the food, surround herself with the people and the sounds and smells of Saint Petersburg. Even Victor seems to be a different person in Saint Petersburg – still Victor, still cheerful and enthusiastic, but Yuuri can already see his mindset settling on the upcoming season, on his sketched-out routines and what he’ll need in order to perform them.

 _She’ll still be my Ai-chan,_ Yuuri tells himself. _Even if I’m the only one who calls her that._

There’s a shout from the main room, followed by some particularly enthusiastic banging.

“Yuuri!” shouts Victor. “Come and see! Yura’s teaching Annushka how to play the drums!”

“It’s taiko drums, you idiot! It’s _cultural_!”

The bangs, however, sound much more metallic than not, and Yuuri groans.

“Not if you’re using the pots and pans it isn’t!” Yuuri called back and turned to Georgi with a grin. “Coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” says Georgi, and follows.

*

When they leave, Mila rubs noses with Anya and tickles under her chin. “ _Dobroy noche_ , _Anya_!”

Yurio pokes gently at the baby’s belly, making her giggle. “Two in the morning, _dushka_ , that’s the best time for waking up.”

“Yura,” whines Victor.

But Georgi kisses the baby on the top of her head, and simply says, “Goodnight, Aina.”

Yuuri smiles, a little bit confused, but a lot happy.

*

It’s later, while Victor is singing to Aina in the bath – another Russian nursery song, Yuuri thinks, one which involves a lot of splashing – that Yuuri remembers that the windows on the balcony are still open.

Much to his surprise, there’s a strong breeze blowing through the open windows. It smells sweet, like flowers and ocean breeze, and if Yuuri closes his eyes, it’s easy to imagine he’s back in Hasetsu, walking along the train tracks near the bay, with Makkachin chasing the waves and Victor waddling beside him.

It’s even a little bit cooler on the balcony than it is in the apartment. Yuuri chuckles. Maybe they _will_ all end up sleeping there some nights, and wake up to the sound of the seagulls screeching for their breakfasts.

Yuuri closes the windows – it’s not so warm yet that they’d want them open – and it’s as he turns that he sees the used ashtray, and next to it, the pack of cigarettes Georgi left behind.

Yuuri smiles, and picks them up. Something tells him that Georgi isn’t going to want the cigarettes back.

“ _Annushka, Annushka,_ _poidem kopat kartoshky_ ,” sings Victor, and Aina’s laughter echoes off the tiles. Yuuri throws away the ashes and the cigarettes, and then goes to join them, leaning against the doorframe, well out of splashing range.

“Your daughter is a fish,” Victor declares. The front of his shirt is completely soaked.

“So are you,” says Yuuri with a grin.

Victor ignores him and starts singing again. Aina laughs and splashes the water. “ _Da-lee, da-lee, tri-lee, va-lee_. _Eta mi nye pro’hodali—”_

“Georgi said there’s a skater named Anya,” says Yuuri.

“Oh – yes. They broke up last summer. She’s dating a hockey player now. I’m surprised he mentioned her, I thought he was seeing someone new.”

“Well,” says Yuuri, “we did give our daughter the same name.”

Victor looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Oh. I suppose we did. I forgot about her, until you mentioned it.” He leans down again and splashes some water on Aina. “Georgi might be over-dramatic, but I always thought he could do better.”

Yuuri doesn’t know Georgi very well yet, but he isn’t going to disagree.

“ _Annushka, Annushka,_ ” sings Victor, and Aina slaps both her hands down on the water, and ends up splashing right into Victor’s face, drenching him.

“Okay, Ai-chan,” says Yuuri, laughing as Victor sits back and splutters, trying to wipe the water from his eyes. He grabs the towel and reaches down for the squirming baby girl. “Time to get into pajamas.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have eaten all that sushi when I was pregnant,” grumbles Victor as he reaches over to drain the tub.

 


End file.
